


Happiness is a Fleeting Moment

by AsheTarasovich (natalieashe), natalieashe



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Brooding, Declarations Of Love, Insecurity, Love, M/M, Relationship(s), Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 10:08:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3846922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natalieashe/pseuds/AsheTarasovich, https://archiveofourown.org/users/natalieashe/pseuds/natalieashe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q has everything he wants now he's in a relationship with both James and Alec, but he can't quite believe it's true...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happiness is a Fleeting Moment

Turning away from the hot huff of breath on his cheek, Q stares vacantly into the shadows. He has to turn from the pouting bottom lip, parted from its sibling in sleep, warm puffs sighing contentedly between them. They twitch away from the ticklish brush of his fluffy dark hair, compress, and part once more to resume the steady pattern of inhale slowly, exhale deeply.

He tries to ease away from the rise and fall of the hard muscled chest at his back, only to be pressed reflexively tighter by a strong forearm across his belly. Captured and held briefly in a dream, falling slack almost immediately. 

Movement under the duvet. Calloused fingertips lightly brush over the purple smudges on his hip, still tender from the bruising grip two nights ago when Q rode Alec hard, chasing away mission tension for both of them. A growl in the darkness accompanied by a gentle squeeze of his sore flesh. 

“Stop thinking.” The hand is gone, moving to rest on James’ thigh. The huffing breaths cease, becoming shallower as the man between them stirs.

“Can’t.” Q replies.

“Fine.” Alec rolls onto his back pulling James with him, all that warmth and security disappearing from Q leaving him naked and bereft. James aims a sleepy kiss at the other blond and misses, puckering plump lips at darkness, settling into Alec’s loose embrace.

Q swings out of bed, finds his glasses, plucks a t-shirt from the floor. Far too large, it smells of brick dust, sweat and Alec. He pads to the living room and locates his parka dumped on the sofa, digging in a pocket for cigarettes and a lighter. Hops up onto the wide window ledge and cracks open the window. Lighter flares, turning the tip of the cig an angry glowing red as he inhales deeply, lets the smoke stream out of the window in a forced plume.

This is happiness, contentment, being in love. Everything – everyone – he loves, and who loves him in return, is here in this flat. They are three, together, under one roof. He has never had this, never had cause to be so happy.

He’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Nothing can stay this good for long.

Lost in thought, smoking his way through the first, then the second. About to light the third when there is movement at his shoulder. James moves with the grace and silence of a hunting cat. He takes the cigarette, balances it on his full lip, raises the lighter and sparks. 

“I thought you quit?” Q accuses.

“I thought you agreed to stop doing this.”

Q says nothing, stares out of the window and they smoke in silence, passing the cigarette between them until it is dead. It is easy for James to say stop. James, who oozes confidence and sensuality and who can make anyone love him with a well-chosen word and sultry look. Alec loves James, though Q has never heard him say it. Maybe he tells him on the nights Q watches the flickering monitors in Q-branch, saving other lives, while his own carries on without him. Maybe Alec screams his love for James as they…

“He made you come out here, didn’t he?”

“He’s worried you’re going to fuck this up again.”

“He’s probably right.” Q says, flippant.

James wriggles behind him on the ledge, and Q sinks back with a sigh. T-shirt slips from one bony shoulder which is then covered by a large tanned hand. Lips traverse the ridge of Q’s shoulder, suckling at the juncture of his neck.

“Come back to bed” James whispers “And stop overanalyzing every bloody nuance of everything. We’re good, all three of us.” James pulls the t-shirt up to Q’s waist, sliding warm hands over the jut of his naked hips. One hand quests lower. Q stops it, raising James fingers to kiss them lightly.

“You go. I’m fine,” he lies “just need to be on my own for a while.”

“That’s the last bloody thing you need” but James goes nonetheless, retreating to the bedroom and Alec’s waiting arms.

Q watches James’ reflection leave in the window pane, bare arse as pale and round as the moon outside, broad shoulders and narrow waist. James loves Q. Q knows this because James tells him often. Whispers it in the corridors of MI6, moans it into the darkness of their bedroom. James tells Q when they are alone, and when they are three. He tells him because Q needs to hear it, even if he can’t quite believe it. 

Because it is quite unbelievable. The skinny young Quartermaster and the indestructible suave agent. Laughable really.

There is murmured conversation from the bedroom. Q imagines the two muscular men in a languorous embrace, strong and sure of one another and his gut twists. The self-doubt settles like a living thing, finding a nest between his heart and stomach, stretching out to caress both with evil suckered tentacles of insecurity. He is not quite enough for this. Too skinny, too weak.

 

He wishes he didn’t know how their hands feel on his body as they slowly take him apart, worshipping him and showing they care. He knows now what he will lose when it’s all over and a bittersweet pain lodges in his chest. Part of him aches for the simplicity of fucking without feelings, just sex, the way it was before...

"Come to bed Q, now!” Alec stands at the bedroom door, naked and half hard. “I’m tired and I can’t sleep with you out here brooding.”

Q drops his chin onto his knees, watches the cigarette burning down slowly, unsmoked. His thin fingers hold it delicately, eventually raising it to his lips in a shaking hand. “I’m not brooding.” Q offers a false bright smile and drops from the window ledge. His bare arse is numb and he rubs at a cheek, rucking Alec’s grubby t-shirt up to hide his trembling fingers. “I’ll be through soon. Go back to bed Alec.”

Alec strides across the room and pulls Q against his chest, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Just please… Fuck, I’ll make tea.”

Alec shows he loves Q in a dozen small but thoughtful gestures. Mobile always charged, hot food shoved under his nose at regular intervals, perfectly brewed tea in the small hours. James teases them about the ‘warm fuzzies’ and they both deny there is anything more than simple practicality in the actions. But the feelings they raise in Q are exactly that. Warm and soft, an opposing view of the Double O agent the world normally sees. They have become a part of his everyday life.

But Q does not feel deserving of such attention. He picks fault and snarks or ignores the gesture completely.

Q bites his lip when Alec hands over the mug. When Q drowns in his insecurities, it is always Alec that is the most hurt, but Alec will never say this to Q. Alec will never put into words how much he loves him.

“Drink up, and come to bed. Please.”

Chilled leather sofa against bare legs, heat bleeding through the ceramic into Q’s palms. Sofa dips and Alec sits on the edge, elbows on knees, head in hands. Blond hair pushed vertical through large scarred fingers. The same fingers that curl around his cock to coax his release from him, or smooth circles over the back of his hand as they anxiously wait for news of their missing third.

James watches sadly from the bedroom door. He would die for Alec, has killed for him. Their love is stronger than steel and doesn’t need to be spoken. They are a matched pair in many ways, including the way they love the stubborn boy who doesn’t believe he deserves to be happy. Q buries into the cushions and pretends not to notice how much he is hurting them both.

“Just tell him Alec” James sighs “And we can all go back to bed.”

“He doesn’t need to” Q says softly. “I know it.” He slides his foot against Alec’s thigh, a small bit of contact, an apology of sorts.

Q loves them both, he just doesn’t love himself. If he pushes hard enough he will get what he deserves.

The other shoe will drop.


End file.
